


You Never Called

by WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Denial, Ethics, F/M, Friendship, Hellfire Club, Pre-Relationship, Pride, Telepathic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma does not need help, even when she knows the only one who could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Never Called

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whipsy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=whipsy).



> Prompt was to use a pairing provided by prompter and write to a song.
> 
> Song: "Here to Deliver" by Avalon  
> Pairing: Emma/Charles

Emma hated the very idea of needing help. She did not need help, never had, never would. (Contrary to popular belief, lying to oneself could be a useful skill to cultivate.) She had been just a little girl the first time she felt the flicker of another's consciousness against her own, not yet a grown woman the first time she felt a telepath's surprise at meeting another telepath mind to mind, and at neither time did she want or appreciate assistance.

Company was not so bad.

The telepath was a boy and faintly amused. _Of course, if you ever_ do _need assistance, just call._

She humphed and then told him the latest on her new boyfriend, who thought the world of her—and her mutation. _But you're more considerate,_ she reassured her invisible friend. He at least thought of women as intelligent, not just beautiful and useful.

Another chuckle.

Both telepaths were insufferably patronizing, but neither minded. They recognized themselves in the mirrors of each other's minds.

They lost touch for a while when Emma devoted herself more thoroughly to forwarding the goals of the Hellfire Club and her "friend" devoted himself to postgraduate studies. Occasionally, he "called" and asked her a question on psychology. Apparently, she had mastered manipulation far more than he had.

 _Your ethics will lose you a doctorate,_ she groused, woken from a sound sleep. But she gave him his answer.

You _never call._ His thoughts sounded sad.

Emma rolled her eyes. _I don't need help. Ever._ No names, no proper exchanges, nothing. It kept them both safe and happy behind their comfortable shields.

 _Self-delusion is_ not _a desirable trait,_ he chided gently.

 _Speak for yourself._ She turned to diamond and blocked him out. She did not need help. she never needed help.

Not even when she came face to face with the first telepath that could break through her flimsy mental shields like a piece of tattered cloth, when her only defense was diamond and the only thing keeping her from diamond was fear of the metal at her throat. Emma did _not_ need help.

**Author's Note:**

> It was pointed out to me once that Emma's shields held firm. This is a very old fanfic and took whatever liberties fit as I was writing, so I'll simply call it AU and call it even, okay?


End file.
